


Flirtatious Fixation

by AnonMetro



Series: His Spy - Her Soldier [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Degraded into smutty fluff, F/M, Failed Painting, Fluff and Smut, I think I had a plot at one point, Mutual Pining, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Resolved Sexual Tension, Soldier & Spy - Freeform, Steve likes Natasha's butt, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7192910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonMetro/pseuds/AnonMetro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve can't quite get a certain Spy off his mind, so he tries to get her onto a canvas. Things don't work out very well.</p><p>Or do they?</p><p>...... (they do)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flirtatious Fixation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegraytigress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegraytigress/gifts).



> For thegraytigress, because she makes so many goddamn amazing Romanogers stories that I thought I might inflict one of my own on her. I'm sorry in advance, Maggie ;)  
> No copyright infringement was intended, and the characters portrayed belong solely to their original creators.  
> No beta; so any and all grammatical / spelling / translation errors are my own.  
> Italics are Steve's inner thoughts.

* * *

 

 

Steve Rogers wasn’t always an “ass man” as the youth today put it. In fact; if anyone who knew him were still alive, they’d tell you his gaze at a woman usually went a little further north. Not in a blatant or disrespectful way, just curious and…. reverent. As an artist; he had a healthy understanding of the human form, but Steve was like any other young man despite his health problems.

Steve Rogers _loved_ women.

Their unique scents. The way their hair cascaded past their necks. How beautiful their eyes could be when paired with the right color. How kissable and delicate their lips looked; not to mention how delectable they looked with just the right shade of lipstick.

And; much like many men, he loved a woman’s curves. The way their silhouettes’ played on a canvas were hypnotic.

Which was kind of what was causing his current dilemma. The piece he was working on just……. wasn’t coming together like he had hoped it would. It wasn’t his models’ fault, seeing as how he was trying to recreate the piece from memory rather than having her pose _because good luck with that conversation, Rogers._ The shadows he was trying to incorporate weren’t doing a certain part of her anatomy justice. Her cat-suit was an amazing tactical weapon when she wanted it to be, with its distracting clinginess and the zipper pulled _just low enough_ for you to get an idea of what color her bra might be, but it was horrendous when it came to a full painting without proper lighting to highlight a certain asset.

He looked at the painting again with a disappointed huff. Her eyes were the usual vibrant green he had to go to 6 different craft supply stores to find the correct blend for, and her hair was a beautifully rendered wave of fiery red. Her perfect lips were that delicious shade of pink, and her pert little nose had that cute tinge of flush on the tip she got when she was fighting. Her skin was rendered lovingly in an off-white color to imitate her perfect alabaster complexion, and her body was painfully recreated in a stunning battle pose that _screamed_ of power and discipline.

It was just her…… her _butt_ that wasn’t right. Not in the….. it was _perfect_ in person, but it just…….

_Say it. Say it so you know where you failed._

“The shadows melded with her suit and made it look like some sort of amorphous blob.” He finally whispered to himself.

It was embarrassing. He knew he could get its curvature when he sketched it.

_But you’re trying to **paint** her. Make her immortal and beautiful in full, loving color. **And you’re failing miserably.**_

He ran a hand through his hair as he stared at it. It was as if it were mocking him.

_No. It’s not **you** it’s mocking. It’s **her**. It’s insulting her beauty, and you know how much you hate when someone disrespects her in any way._

The voice in his head was kind of a dick, but it was true nonetheless. He couldn’t do this painting justice. He had to destroy it before anyone barged in to his room and saw it. Thankfully it was about 2 a.m. and there was a gigantic furnace just ten floors down, so he threw a light sheet over the painting, picked it up, and set off to destroy this….. _monstrosity._

The Avengers facility was quiet tonight. Obviously the late hour helped, but it had more to do with a few people being missing rather than sleeping. Sam was visiting his folks’ upstate for the weekend. Tony and Pepper were at some sort of event in California, so they were staying in their rebuilt Malibu home for a few days as a mini-vacation. Thor had yet to return from Asgard, and Clint was home with Laura taking care of little Nathaniel while enjoying his retirement. Bruce was still missing, but after finding the wreckage of the stealth Quinjet, the search was put aside as more and more threats popped up around the world.

The only people in the facility were Wanda, Vision, Natasha, and himself. Wanda was basically dead to the world after 11 p.m., and Vision entered some sort of hibernating state at _exactly_ midnight and didn’t rouse until 5 a.m. unless an emergency alarm was sounded.

Natasha was…… doing whatever the hell Natasha did at this hour. She was still quite the mystery to him, even after years of working together and placing unflinching trust in one another. It was one of the things that attracted him. The thought that there was so much more than what she offered. That there was more he had to earn to come to know her. That there was depth and challenge to her friendship.

_Right. “Friendship” is all you’re thinking about when you stare at her lips and ass when you think she’s not looking._

There was an unnerving amount of truth to his; rather dick-ish, inner voice’s rambling. Steve had known he lusted after Natasha since the moment they met. It was only later, after working and fighting together and learning to trust each other that he realized he was falling in love with her. Well, an idea of her he had created in his mind anyway.

His quiet introspection was quickly shattered as the elevator stopped just a few floors short of his destination and the woman in question appeared on the other side of the doors.

“Hey.” She said with that little smirk she used on him and no one else.

“Hey yourself.” He retorted with her own personalized smile.

It was so easy to fall into certain patterns with her. The way they fought together was completely instinctual, and required absolutely no communication. The way they could spend hours just sitting together; her enthralled by a good book with her legs draped over his lap while he sketched or read himself. The comfortable small-talk they could share contrasted with the much deeper conversations in the dead of night.

_She has become your whole world, and you can’t even honor her with a decent painting._

He shook that thought away when she made her way to stand right next to him in the elevator. It was quite large, but they had become accustomed to the sense of the other invading their personal space. Her shoulder bumped his bicep and she glanced at the sheet-covered canvas.

“Gonna show me, or is it a surprise?” She said as her voice did that husky, teasing _thing_ that it did.

“Actually, I was…. well the thing is….” He started off lamely. He couldn’t lie to save his life most of the time, but there was something in him that _couldn’t_ lie to Natasha. She had too many secrets and lies piled up in her heart by the world, she deserved the truth from him.

“I screwed this one up. I’m heading down to the furnace to destroy it.” He said with more defeat in his tone than he really intended.

She stood quietly and nodded. That was just her. She understood and never judged because she thought she had no right to. He actually wished she would, just so he would have her disappointment to egg him on to creating the perfect painting for her.

They slipped back into their comfortable silence while they waited for the doors to open on the next level. She looked like she was hitting the gym on the floor above the furnace, so she got off with a little wave of her hand and a curious expression on her face.

He finally reached the floor and made his way towards the back. He could see the flames dancing behind the half-open grate and was filled with a sense of peace.

_It’ll be gone soon. It’ll be gone, and you can focus on finding the right way to paint her. To exemplify those tiny little flaws that only make her more beautiful in your eyes. To finding a way to say you love her, even if she’ll never see it. To –_

He had to stop because she was _there._ Slinking out of the shadows the fire created like she was a part of them.

“I…. I thought you were heading to the gym.” He said with a trace of fear in his tone.

“I was, but I needed to see it. I _want_ to see it, Steve.” She whispered so low that only someone with his enhanced senses could hear.

“Nat – “

“Please.” She added and he knew _he just lost._

With more reluctance than he’d ever had, he removed the sheet and held the painting in front of him for her to see.

She just _looked._ It was agonizing for him. Watching her eyes take in each detail of this _thing_ in his hands.

“How did you screw this up? It’s….. it’s beautiful.” She said in a pained tone he _absolutely couldn’t handle._ The way she said it made the flaw that much more humiliating.

_It’s a shallow flaw for a shallow man. You don’t deserve her. Not if someone as observant as she is can’t see it._

Why wouldn’t the voice just **shut up**?

“I…. I couldn’t get it right. I couldn’t get a shallow, tiny detail that only I noticed right, and it ruined it in my mind. I’m sorry, Nat. I can be such a stupid guy sometimes.” He finally choked out.

She looked at him and then back at the painting. Scrutinizing even more until she….. _smiled?_

“I think I should be mad, Rogers. All the work I put in, and you can’t get my ass right?” She said as her smile grew _even wider._

He was at a _complete_ loss for words. She… she thought it was _funny_? He couldn’t fathom why, but he didn’t have enough time before she sauntered her way up to him. She grabbed the painting and threw it into the furnace behind her without even looking.

“I think maybe I should pose for you, just so you don’t go crazy trying to get it right from that astounding memory of yours.” She whispered as she pushed herself up against his chest. “Might even do it naked.” She added as she pulled him down and brought her lips to his ear.

That; coupled with her proximity and scent, had a rather immediate effect on him. He instantly began to harden against her stomach and couldn’t stop his hands from resting a bit lower on her waist than he intended.

“I know you look, Steve. I’ve known for quite a while, and every time I catch you without you noticing gets me so _wet._ ” She proclaimed as her fingers trailed along the hairs on the back of his neck. Ignoring the absolutely criminal blush that was spreading across his entire body.

“Captain America, getting **hard** staring at my ass. At my lips. At _these_.” She said as she pulled away enough to tug down the zipper to her training hoodie to reveal her ample chest accentuated by a scandalous sports bra.

“But I don’t want **_Captain America_** staring at me when he thinks I’m not looking.” She says with a rather dramatic shift to a more serious tone that leaves him completely confused.

“I want **_Steve Rogers_**. I want the man who has become such an important piece of my life; to make love to me in his bed. Even when he knows….. even when he _knows_ I can’t say how much I’ve come to…. to – “

Her rambling is cut off when he brings his lips down to meet hers. Fulfilling a dream that’s kept him up ever since they escaped from Rumlow in that mall.

_The escalator._

Her lips are _even softer_ than he remembered. Tasting of strawberry (for some reason) and the roasted chicken he and Wanda had prepared for the team for dinner. He just couldn’t get enough as their lips met and battled as the kiss intensified.

One of his hands curves around to her back while the other, rather shamelessly, rests on her perfectly rounded bottom. The positioning allows him to pull her _even closer_ so she can feel how she’s effecting him.

A tiny gasp leaves her lips as his hardened length nudges against her center. He moves to kiss her cheek and nuzzle into her neck.

“I love you, Nat. Have for a long time. You’re right, though. I know you can’t say it yet, but I have to know it’s there. I have to know you want this.” He whispers hoarsely as his breath sends shivers down her spine.

She pulls back so she can look into his eyes.

“More than anything.” She answers. There’s fear in her voice. Fear of letting _him_ in to a place she must’ve once been sure she’d closed off forever.

He’d scaled all her walls and bashed through all the barriers she’d put up against this crushing feeling she had been developing for him since she took in his form on the Heli-Carrier all those years ago.

“Я твоя, Наташа. До тех пор, как вы хотите меня.” He whispered as his lips ghosted over hers once more.

Her eyes misted a bit as his declaration burned in to her memory. “When did you learn to speak Russian?” She whimpered as his hand slipped under her workout pants to cup her bottom without her clothes in the way.

“I started learning the moment I read your file. Right after New York. I wanted to talk to you in your tongue; but as I learned more and more about you, I thought you might not want to outside of missions. That it might be painful to hear.” He said as the hand on her neck slipped slowly down her chest; underneath her pants to cup her covered womanhood. She shuddered as his fingers began to slide along her slit.

“Да, Стив. прямо там.” She mumbled as her muscles tightened at his ministrations.

She had to grab his shoulders as his finger slid under her panties and easily into her incredibly wet heat. He brought his lips back down to hers in a passionate kiss and copied the motions of his finger with his tongue. She nearly blacked out as his thumb appeared out of nowhere to rub her bundle of nerves gently but firmly. Her release crashed over her so suddenly that she nearly fell out of his grasp as her knees buckled.

“У меня есть ты, Наташа. Я никогда не дам тебе упасть.” He promised as he eased her through her orgasm. One hand rubbing small circles in her back while the other was brought up to his own lips to lick clean.

“Don’t…. Бог….. don’t….. I want to taste… what you did to me.” She whispered as she slowly came back to herself. He offered her his finger and she latched on like her life depended on it. It was easily one of the more erotic things he’d ever seen. Never mind how her lips and tongue felt sliding along his digit.

“I think I should carry you up to my room.” He said as her lips popped off his finger with dramatic flair.

“I was wondering when you would. Didn’t think you had it in you to do **_that_** when almost anyone could’ve walked in.” She said with a weak, but mischievous smirk. She gave a small yelp when he hoisted her into his arms.

“That was just a preview. I’m going to touch **_every_** part of you by the time we’re through. Then I’m going to make you breakfast; and pending world-ending calamity, I’m going to do it all over again tomorrow.” He swore as he touched his lips back to hers in a deceivingly innocent kiss.

The room echoed with her soft laughter as they made their way back to the elevator.

 

**THE END**

* * *

 

**Translations**

_**Я твоя, Наташа. До тех пор, как вы хотите меня.** \- I'm yours, Natasha. As long as you want me.  
_

_**Да, Стив. прямо там.** \- Yes, Steve. Right there  
_

_**У меня есть ты, Наташа. Я никогда не дам тебе упасть.** \- I have you, Natasha. I will never let you fall.  
_

_**Бог** \- God  
_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Reviews and messages are welcome and appreciated.


End file.
